Shadow Games
by Light-Ace
Summary: For Day 6 of Faberry Week: Assassins. There's always that one idiot that tries to beat the system.


Anonymous contracts weren't an unusual thing. If, say, a government official took out a contract, if they did something to anger their hired hand, they might find themselves out of a job – ruined – or worse. Assassins were hired to find people. Thus anonymity wasn't an odd thing.

Which was why Quinn didn't so much as blink when she found her newest contract anonymous. She understood why they did it; if word got out, they'd be ruined, and no one trusted assassins to keep secrets. But if things took a turn for the traitorous, it wasn't a big deal for her to track down the one responsible. People always left trails.

Her newest mark was a Rachel Berry. There wasn't a reason for the contract; it wasn't necessary. The contract was fulfilled, Quinn was payed. She didn't care about anything else; personal grudges weren't her problem.

She folded the paper up and stuck it in her pocket. First things first: find out what she could about this Rachel.

/

Information wasn't difficult to come by. Rachel was one of those people that left a major paper trail. She was an up-and-coming Broadway star, which gave Quinn a nice schedule to work with. She made mental note of the theater's address and Rachel's home address and prepared to leave.

She was planning on taking a page out of Spider-Man's book, which meant that a lot of gear would only hinder her, so she only took a few daggers. As she slid the last knife into its sheath – throwing knives weren't her preferred dealing method, but they would work if something went wrong – she eyed the bottom drawer on the safe for a long minute before yanking it out and retrieving the contents.

Quinn hated using guns. They were used by common thugs who needed them to instill fear in their enemies; Quinn hated being compared to them. Besides, she could instill fear just by being spotted on a rooftop. People would begin to panic, wondering if they were next and if they were, who wanted them dead.

The gun felt heavy on her hip, but she shook herself and pulled the window open. She crawled out onto the fire escape and pulled the window shut behind her, tugging her hood down over her face as she did.

Her destination was a good distance across town, and she hauled herself up onto the railing of the fire escape as she mentally mapped the area.

She pushed off the railing and grabbed for the lip of the roof of the building next door.

/

Luckily for Quinn, Rachel Berry was punctual to a fault. She was sat on the rooftop ledge, kicking her legs in the air as she waited for her mark to appear, when the digital clock on the bank opposite her clicked over to ten o'clock and Rachel appeared below.

Instantly, she was on her feet and creeping along the edge of the building, one eye on her footing and one on her mark below.

Even at ten at night, New York City was still bustling, though a bit less than during the day. Now wasn't a safe time to walk the streets.

Apparently no one had informed Rachel Berry of this, Quinn thought with a smirk. Her mark was walking as if she had nothing to fear, and Quinn couldn't help but grudgingly admire the cockiness. It would be her undoing. She resolved to stick to the rooftops until she could find a more secluded spot to fulfill her contract.

It came a few blocks later, as Quinn was crouched on the corner of a building. Her mark turned down an alleyway to cut across to another road, and Quinn took the opportunity to attack.

She stepped off the roof and dropped from windowsill to windowsill until she thumped – rather loudly – onto a dumpster Rachel was approaching.

Rachel froze, but only for a moment. Then she smiled, and Quinn found herself confused. Who smirked when confronted by an assassin? Rachel Berry, apparently.

"Well, this is ironic," she sneered; Quinn frowned at her. "Who hired you, assassin?" When Quinn didn't respond, she nodded. "Anonymous, then. Well, come on then!"

She spread her arms, but Quinn paused, wary. Was it a trap? But no, Rachel had looked genuinely surprised when she'd appeared.

The pause was a moment too long, however, because the next thing Quinn knew, she was skidding down the alley on her back. She twisted onto her stomach and clambered to her feet as gracefully as she could, which wasn't much, but she did manage to recover her footing.

She looked up to see Rachel charging her, teeth bared, and there was barely a second for her to respond. Instinct took over, and she dropped back to the ground, grasping for Rachel's legs and holding tight when she had then.

With her legs trapped, Rachel crashed to the ground, and Quinn momentarily had the upper hand. She pinned Rachel to the ground with an arm pressing against her throat and reached for a knife. However, with more strength than Quinn had expected, Rachel surged upward and shoved Quinn off of her. The knife went spinning away out of Quinn's fingers.

Quinn rolled with the momentum and ended up back on her feet, dagger palmed and raised.

Where she was standing a good ten feet away, Rachel tossed her hands up. "Really? Another assassin would have shot me by now, and you pull out a _knife_."

"Guns attract attention," Quinn growled in a low voice. "And I don't plan on being caught."

Rachel straightened slightly, and the ghost of a smile formed on her lips. Then she charged again.

This time, Quinn was prepared for it, and she grabbed Rachel around the middle and whirled around to press her against the alley wall, knife pressed to her throat.

"Well," Rachel huffed, tweaking an eyebrow down at her where she was pinned against the wall. "A bit forward, aren't we? Shouldn't you have taken me on a date first?"

Quinn frowned. "Are you always this chatty in the face of death?"

"Occasionally," Rachel drawled with a smirk. "Maybe I'm not used to such attractive murderers." Her smirk widened, and Quinn scoffed. "At least tell me your name. Or your assassin name, if you prefer."

She blinked at Quinn, looking as calm as if they'd been talking over coffee. Catching her eye under the hood, she jerked her head imploringly.

"Light," Quinn ground out through gritted teeth.

Rachel smiled at her. "I'm going to knock you unconscious now."

What?

"What?"

/

Leaving Light sprawled unceremoniously on the ground, Rachel took the nearby wall at a sprint and used the line of windows to reach the roof.

She could have just continued walking home, but she was covered in dirt and grime – and bruises, by this time tomorrow. The rooftops would stop her from being gawked at in the street, as she looked like she'd been mugged, which she admittedly had, but the last thing she wanted was a police investigation.

Assassins were never caught anyway.

In fact, nobody usually survived a brush with one, unless you happened to be an assassin yourself. But even then, it wasn't a guarantee you would come out on top.

Rachel cleared a gap easily and landed on the roof of her apartment. She quickly shimmied down to the fire escape until she reached the window to her apartment. After glancing around to make sure she was alone – she had no doubt she looked like a thief right now – she pushed the window in and slipped into her apartment.

For whatever reason, she had been marked for an assassin, though it was unclear whether it was Rachel Berry or Eagle who had been marked for death. If it was Eagle, she had some problems to deal with, but if it was only Rachel, it would only take tracking down the contractor to end everything.

Might as well start now.

/

Two days later, a contract arrived for Rachel.

She took it up to her apartment and opened it to find a few addresses, a small wallet picture, and a name.

Her mark was Quinn Fabray.

/

Quinn squinted at her reflection, scowling at the yellow skin around her right eye where Rachel had landed a punch. It had been nice and dark purple for a couple days, but it was thankfully fading now.

She had to admit, she hadn't expected Rachel to best her. Yeah, she'd put up a good fight, but others had done the same, and they'd still wound up bleeding out in some gutter somewhere.

But Rachel had managed to escape from right underneath her nose – as well as give her a nice splitting headache and a shiner – and Quinn found herself intrigued against her better interest. This woman was a curious one. It was no wonder she'd walked the streets like she owned them. Unlike some idiots, she had had the skills to justify it.

However, there was still the problem of the unfulfilled contract. She wasn't rewarded until the mark was dead, and Rachel Berry was still very much alive.

Quinn sighed and began the task of covering her black eye with makeup. Maybe Quinn would have better luck than Light at carrying out the task.

/

With one knife tucked into her boot and another up her sleeve, Quinn took to the streets. She didn't have an exact plan, just wander around Rachel's apartment area, maybe find a coffee shop to lurk in, and wait until she appeared.

She'd lost her handgun the other night, and Quinn had no doubt who had taken it. It wasn't a major loss; it was more just the fact that it had been stolen than anything that made her eager to end this mess.

Coffee in hand – she wasn't just going to sit in a booth staring out the window for three hours – Quinn strolled casually through the streets, eyes and ears searching for her mark in the crowd.

After a while though, she decided to give up for the day and try again tonight. She had ducked into an alley for easy access to the rooftops when she got the feeling someone was watching her and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

She crossed her arms – a protective look to whoever was watching, but her fingers closed on the grip of the knife and she gripped it hard. Someone was watching her, and the only thing she could think of was 'I've been double-crossed'.

There was a rustle of fabric, and Quinn strained her ears to find the source. She heard the scuff of a boot on the concrete behind her, just barely heard over the noise of the crowd. Whoever had marked her was somewhere behind her.

Quinn took a deep breath quietly and resumed walking down the alley, all the while listening for whoever was tailing her. They obviously favored stealth more than she did; she preferred to just drop in on her enemies and use the element of surprise to easily finish the job. Stealth assassins _depended_ on it, and whoever was following her had lost it.

They were good. Quinn was better.

/

Rachel hated working in the daylight. She preferred night, when there were more shadows for her to hide in and watch from. But an opportunity had presented herself, and she wasn't about to pass on it.

She'd spotted Quinn in the coffee shop across the street, watching out the window and looking bored as she nursed a cup of coffee. Rachel had geared up quickly and kept an eye on her, and she'd been ready when Quinn had moved.

Sitting up in the shadows of a building's metal addition, Rachel's heart pounded loudly in her chest as she watched Quinn slow momentarily before starting off again, arms crossed over her chest.

Quietly, she made her way to ground level and stuck to what shadows were there at this time of the day. Oh, how she wished it was three hours later. Dusk was much preferable to midday.

Halfway down the alley, Quinn paused, and Rachel tensed, sure she'd been caught, but Quinn only pulled her phone out of her pocket and studied it.

Rachel took the opportunity to make her move. She drew a small knife and approached Quinn as silently as she could, stepping quietly over the ground.

She was only a few paces from her when everything hit the fan.

Quinn whirled, eyes gleaming and teeth bared, and Rachel only had time to blink before she was being straddled on the ground with a dagger pressed to her throat.

Well, this was awfully familiar, in an unsettling way.

With a frustrated roar, Rachel pushed with all her strength and rolled them over, but Quinn wasn't giving up that easily. They tussled for a minute, both of them throwing punches whenever there was an opening for them. Rachel's head was jerked back by a particularly violent jab to her jaw, and she blinked away stars as she grappled for the collar of Quinn's shirt.

Her fingers wrapped around the hand holding the knife – her own having long since been knocked away – and they scrabbled for the blade before Rachel smashed Quinn's fingers with a fist and the second knife skittered away. Rachel jerked her head up, and there was a cracking sound as her forehead connected with Quinn's cheek. Quinn yelped but didn't falter, pressing back and swinging her elbow up and into the side of Rachel's head.

Grunting with the exertion, Rachel pushed Quinn up until she could catch her stomach with her boots and kick her as hard as she could. Quinn fell backward onto the ground with the force, but as Rachel struggled to her feet, she found herself face to face with yet another knife.

Quinn was breathing heavily, her entire face flushed with exertion, but she was smirking victoriously as Rachel crossed her eyes to watch the blade in front of her nose.

"You're too loud, assassin," she said between gasps of air. "I heard you coming."

Rachel glared up at her, then faltered. She remembered those eyes; they'd been lit with that same malice not two days earlier. "Light," she growled, and Quinn's smirk dropped off her face.

"Rachel Berry," Quinn sighed, suddenly sounding exhausted. She dropped the knife, though Rachel didn't lower her guard until it was tucked back in her boot and she was offered a hand up. "We've been double-crossed," she said, waving her head imploringly.

Indeed, no one contracted a mark for another assassin. It was an unspoken rule that assassins didn't kill their fellows; taboo, so to speak. And whoever had contracted Rachel, had contracted Quinn, most likely just for a sick show and test of who was the better assassin for whoever the real target was.

Quinn smiled tiredly as Rachel accepted her hand up, and when they were both on their feet, they grasped forearms. Now that they were up close and _not_ trying to kill each other, Rachel could see Quinn's mark. The tattoo that identified her as an assassin was inked right below her wrist at the base of her thumb.

"Let me guess, yours was anonymous too?" Quinn asked dryly when they had released each other. Rachel nodded. "Guess they're not entirely stupid after all. Good, that'll make this more interesting."

She grinned in a way that reminded Rachel of a striped cat from Wonderland, but Rachel couldn't help but smile back.

/

It turned out that making anonymous contracts was the only intelligent thing their mark had done, because he had left one _hell_ of a paper trail in his wake.

They quickly tracked him down as one of the heads in a big business in the city, with an ego the size of a mansion and a brain the size of a grain of sand.

He was almost making this _too_ easy.

Finding his address wasn't difficult in the slightest, and it was easy enough to draw up a plan for finishing the job they'd started not two weeks before.

Quinn was lounging on the corner of the man's apartment building when Rachel arrived, springing from rooftop to rooftop with ease. She grinned when she saw Rachel and sprang to her feet to sweep her into a hug.

"Nice of you to show up," she muttered in Rachel's ear before she pulled back, her grin stretching from one ear to the other.

"There were too many people around," Rachel said, tugging on her clothes to straighten them. "I had to wait until most of them cleared out." She frowned. "And don't I get a hello?"

Quinn smiled. "Hello."

Satisfied, Rachel smirked up at her. "For luck," she said, and kissed the confused look on Quinn's face.

/

The next morning, Sebastian Smyth's body was found hanging by an ankle by a rope from the front window of his apartment, a Heath Ledger Joker smile painted on his face and a note pinned to his chest that read, '_You don't double-cross assassins_,'with the assassin symbol neatly drawn under the signatures of Light and Eagle.

* * *

_This is my favorite of my entries._

_I originally intended to write this a la the Assassin's Creed franchise, but then changed my mind. I wouldn't be opposed to writing the former at some point in the future, however, because this was fun as hell to write._


End file.
